


Leave by the River

by firefly_quill



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Forgetting, M/M, Memory Loss, Nudity, but i promise you a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28296777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_quill/pseuds/firefly_quill
Summary: When he awoke for the first time, it wasn’t unpleasant, per se. He was surrounded simultaneously by a gentle warmth and a brisk breeze, just chill enough to cut through the temperature in a completely innocuous way.He opened his eyes to find the sky as bright as the sunniest of days (and yet the sun was missing), and to find himself lying on a patch of the greenest grass imaginable. Its fresh fragrance rose on the wind, drawing him to consciousness.No, when he awoke for the first time, there was no unpleasantness at all: just this deep and unsettling sense that something was *missing*.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 209





	Leave by the River

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> I don't usually go here, and I've not written a story that's been quite so serious in a while, but this story just wrote itself! I would love to hear your thoughts if you had the time. 
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season!

When he awoke for the first time, it wasn’t unpleasant, per se. He was surrounded simultaneously by a gentle warmth and a brisk breeze, just chill enough to cut through the temperature in a completely innocuous way. 

He opened his eyes to find the sky as bright as the sunniest of days (and yet the sun was missing), and to find himself lying on a patch of the greenest grass imaginable. Its fresh fragrance rose on the wind, drawing him to consciousness. 

No, when he awoke for the first time, there was no unpleasantness at all: just this deep and unsettling sense that something was _missing_.

He blinked lazily into the blue sky, thinking that perhaps the colour was just the slightest bit _off_. He watched the clouds float by, noticing that they looked a bit too much like real animals for it to have been a coincidence. 

He was interrupted in his thoughts by the sound of stone sliding on stone, and he sat up abruptly, aware for the first time that there might be danger. His eyes darted quickly to assess the rest of his surroundings, as though he were trained somehow to do so. There was a spear stuck in the ground behind him and he stood to take it. The weapon felt right in his hands, once again, as though he had wielded it in a different life. 

He turned his attention towards the bridge, and towards the blond figure walking across it. This man—or perhaps, he thought for a moment, this _god_ , for he was the most beautiful creature that he had ever seen—was dressed as a warrior. His well-sculpted chest was bare, but he wore a long green cloak, and his chiton was so long it nearly reached the ground. He, too, was carrying a spear. 

As the beautiful man approached, it could be seen that his brilliant blue eyes were wide, wet and bright with recognition. He dropped his spear and tried to close the distance between them. 

“Halt!” The dreamer of the glade narrowed his eyes. 

The shade with the golden curls froze, a look of shock wiping all the previous joy from his expression in one fell swoop. 

“What...but…” He struggled to finish his sentence before realization seemed to hit. His shoulders fell. “But of course,” he nodded. “You are mad at me.” 

“Mad?” He tilted his head. “How can I be mad at you, when we’ve never met, stranger?”

The words struck the stranger like a blow to the chest. He staggered backwards, never breaking eye contact, despair filling his eyes, causing them to brim with a fresh glassiness. 

“No,” he whispered, almost pleading, almost a prayer. 

The dreamer lowered his spear. “Do we know each other? Did we, in life?”

“No,” The shade repeated, although he did not seem to be answering the question. The dreamer wasn’t even sure if the man had heard it. There was a tragedy to this golden stranger’s frame, to his very being that tugged at something deep in the dreamer’s chest. It was sympathy for whatever it was this man was suffering, yes, but also something else, just out of reach. 

He jabbed his spear into the grass and approached the warrior slowly. “Do you know who I am?” 

The man gasped as he drew near, clenched his fists as though to stop himself, from reaching out, perhaps. 

“Yes,” he said softly. He was taking shallow breaths, as though he were having trouble breathing at all. 

The dreamer frowned, and placed a hand on his arm to calm him. The man with golden hair jumped at the touch, but forced himself into a martial stillness. 

“Would you like to tell me? About me. About us,” The dreamer clarified. “I seem to have nothing better to do, and you seem like you must be a friend.” 

The man with the long hair (that the dreamer for some reason desperately wanted to touch) made a high-pitched sound. He took several steps back, mumbled something that sounded like a quick apology, and fled through a set of exit doors. 

\--- 

The next visitor arrived with much less care. He announced his presence with a crash of broken pottery, and a supernatural speed brought him to the dreamer’s side right away. 

This man—no, this one _was_ a god, for certainly no man’s feet would be on fire in such a way—had shorter black hair, and his expression bore the same affection and concern as the one who had arrived before him.

“Hello, stranger,” He greeted this new visitor with the mismatched eyes. 

“Hello, sir,” The god answered carefully. 

“Did you know me in life as well?” he asked. 

The god’s face fell. 

“Is something wrong?” he frowned. 

“Yes. No. It’s just...you don’t know me?” The stranger asked, his eyes pleading with him.

“I’m sorry, but no,” he shook his head. “I seem to have no memory of who I was, like many here in Elysium.”

“But…” The stranger clenched his teeth to stop himself. 

“But?” He prompted. 

“But it was going to be okay!” The stranger replied with more force than the dreamer thought necessary, given the situation. “I fixed the pact, like I said I would! He came to see you as quickly as he could and I thought it was going to be okay and—” Here, the stranger faltered. His voice broke and he could speak no more. 

“I am sorry, but I don’t recall any of those things,” he replied gently. “But...if we were friends before, surely we can be again?”

The stranger looked up, shocked at his words. The dreamer was surprised to see his eyes wet as well. 

“I seem to be a frequent cause for tears,” he mused. “Was I that bad of a man?”

“No,” The stranger shook his head and answered without hesitation. He offered him a weak smile. “I have it on good authority that you were the very best.” 

\--- 

The next time, they arrived together. The god seemed to be in control: in fact, he was more or less pushing the man with the golden curls towards him with both hands. 

“Ah. So you know each other,” He stood to greet them. 

The man with the golden hair met his gaze and wilted; while he had previously fought against the god’s strength, he now allowed himself to be pressed in whatever direction the god wanted. They stopped in front of him. 

“Yes, we do,” The god with the mismatched eyes answered with forced brightness. “My name is Zagreus.” He gave his companion a hard shove. 

The man with the startling blue eyes gasped, as though brought back from a reverie. He blinked at the dreamer, anguish still written across his features. 

“Hello,” The dreamer gave them both a warm smile, hoping to put the taller man at ease. “And what is yours?”

Zagreus slapped the soldier hard on the back. He jolted again.

“...Achilles,” The shade with the curls whispered. 

“Good to meet you both,” The dreamer’s smile widened at the answer. He reached forward to put his hand on Achilles’ arm, and once again, the man flinched, but did not fully move himself out of the way. The dreamer counted it as a victory. “What brings you to my corner of Elysium?”

“We’re here to see you,” Zagreus replied with a strained smile. “Hope everything is going well here?”

“I am in paradise, am I not?” The dreamer laughed. “How could things be any better?” 

Under his hand, the dreamer could feel the muscles in Achilles’ bicep tense. He frowned and decided to caress his fingers along the length of it, sure that this was somehow something that would calm him. It seemed to work, although it did not seem to lessen the grief etched along well-worn lines on his face. 

“My presence causes you pain,” The dreamer observed with a frown. 

“No,” Achilles answered right away, his eyes focusing on the dreamer’s once again. “It could never.” 

“Splendid,” Zagreus cut in. “Well. You know what I think would be grand? If you got to know a bit more about yourself. Achilles knew you well, so he could tell you. Couldn’t you, sir?”

“I…” Achilles appeared lost by something within the depths of the dreamer’s eyes. “...yes. I could. If you wanted.” 

“Yes, if you’d like to tell me,” The dreamer replied, not sure why he suddenly felt so shy. 

“Great!” Zagreus seemed very pleased by this development. “Well, I’m going to keep going and maybe run myself onto Asterius’ horns intentionally a few times to dull this pain. I’ll see you back at the House, Achilles?” 

“Achilles?” Zagreus repeated more gently when he received no answer. 

“Yes. Of course, lad,” Achilles answered absently. 

“Good,” Zagreus nodded. He turned his attention to the dreamer and the sadness in his eyes returned. “Please treat him well in my absence.” 

“Of course,” The dreamer nodded. 

Zagreus hesitated for a moment more before nodding as well, and sprinting for the exit. 

“So. Perhaps we should start with my name?” The dreamer inquired. He pulled at Achilles’ arm and indicated that he was about to sit. Achilles allowed himself to be pulled downwards as well, despite the little pressure that the dreamer had exerted. 

“Do you...want your name, still?” Achilles asked with some effort. 

“Is there a reason I should not?” The dreamer asked. “Is it so ugly?”

Achilles furrowed his brow. “What sort of name would be ugly?” 

“I don’t know,” The dreamer shrugged nonchalantly. “Theseus?”

Achilles burst into a musical laughter, and Patroclus decided that this was a sound he definitely wanted to hear more often. 

“No,” Achilles shook his head. “It’s not ugly. Patroclus.”

“Patroclus,” The dreamer—Patroclus—repeated. It didn’t sound familiar at all, but he decided not to share that with his new friend. “Alright. Well then, Achilles, tell me about us.” 

At that, Achilles’ shoulders visibly began to shake. 

“Oh!” Patroclus frowned and reached forward again for Achilles’ arm again. “Not if it upsets you, of course. Why don’t you tell me about anything you’d like?”

“I…” Achilles tried. 

Patroclus waited patiently, continuing to rub at Achilles’ arm. 

“I...like it when you do that,” Achilles managed a weak smile, as he looked up into Patroclus’ eyes earnestly. 

“Then I shall continue,” Patroclus smiled back. Somehow this confession made something warm ignite in the depths of what he imagined where his heart would have been. “Perhaps I could start by telling you what I seem to find that I like? You can tell me whether it matches with my old self.” 

“...yes, alright,” Achilles allowed with a small nod. 

The conversation went better after that. Patroclus noted how he seemed to enjoy the shade as much as he enjoyed the sun, and Achilles confirmed this to be true of him in life as well. Patroclus had considered what he would have liked to eat, were he ever hungry, and Achilles shared stories of their meals. They talked for what must have been some time. Patroclus found conversation with Achilles to be easy. After Patroclus confessed that he wished for some rain, Achilles laughed again, and it was a sound that made Patroclus especially proud. He wondered whether he had taken such pride at this simple act in life as well. Feeling like he had earned it, he asked Achilles this very question. 

At once, a melancholy fell across Achilles’ features. “Yes,” he answered with a forced smile. “You did.”

He shifted uncomfortably, even though he should not have felt this discomfort as a shade. “I...should go,” he said as he stood, his expression full of regret. “There are duties that I must attend to.” 

“Very well,” Patroclus stood as well. “Will you come back to visit me though?” 

“Of course,” Achilles answered. It was then that Patroclus noticed he was still holding onto Patroclus’ hand, which he must have grasped during their conversation. 

“I will look forward to it then,” Patroclus tried to give Achilles an encouraging smile. 

“I as well,” Achilles nodded and bowed slightly before taking his leave. 

\--- 

The next time Achilles arrived by himself, he was holding a bouquet of vibrant purple flowers. 

“Achilles,” Patroclus greeted him with a genuine smile. 

“Hello. Zagreus said...I should bring you these?” Achilles handed Patroclus the flowers. 

“Oh. Thank you,” Patroclus blinked at them and accepted the gift. 

“He said that they would brighten up the place,” Achilles didn’t look convinced. 

Patroclus turned and gestured to the voluminous flower bushes surrounding him that changed in variety and colour every day. 

Achilles laughed. “Yes, I thought perhaps that it was a bit silly. The lad means well though. He always does. Oh. Actually.”

Achilles reached into his tunic and pulled out a bottle of nectar. “He had gifted this to me and I hadn’t the opportunity yet to partake. Would you like to share it?”

“I would love to,” Patroclus nodded. 

\--- 

Both Achilles and Zagreus visited occasionally. Patroclus enjoyed their company, particularly Achilles’. While the shade was still reluctant to speak about their past together, he was easy to talk to, and Patroclus felt an affinity with him right away. 

Something that Patroclus was learning about himself though was his own stubbornness. The more that his new friends refused to speak about the details of his past, the more he desired to know. He decided to approach this subject more directly one day with Achilles. 

Achilles startled at it. “I...I’m sorry, what?” 

“I’m certain you heard me,” Patroclus insisted, swatting at him playfully. Achilles jumped at the act. “I would like to know of our relationship. How we met.” 

“Ah. Well,” Achilles lowered his eyes to look at the grass on which they were sitting. “We trained together. And we fought together as well afterwards.” 

“Who was the better fighter?” Patroclus asked with some humour. “Me, certainly?”

A shadow flickered across Achilles’ features. “No.”

“Tsch, well, I don’t believe it,” Patroclus declared, determined to raise the spirits of his new friend. He stood and pulled Achilles up with him. “Wrestle me.” 

“What?” Achilles sputtered. 

“Wrestle me,” Patroclus repeated. He was already slipping out of his chiton. 

“No. Absolutely not.” Achilles had flushed bright red and averted his eyes just as the last of Patroclus’ clothes fell to the ground. 

“Then I’ll have to declare myself the winner,” Patroclus shrugged. 

There was a flash of something in Achilles’ eyes. Clearly, he did not like to lose. Patroclus applied pressure.

“Come now. Surely as a warrior, you realize fear is for the weak—” 

Achilles flinched, and Patroclus worried that he had offended his friend. 

“Fine.” Achilles began to undress, but still made no eye contact. As soon as Achilles began to strip, Patroclus began to wonder whether he had made a grave error. While Achilles’ sculpted torso had already mostly been in view even when he was clothed, Patroclus discovered that he had a _thing_ for muscular thighs and couldn’t help but imagine how they might feel wrapped around him. He wondered whether he should back down to avoid scaring his friend away, but then Achilles began to advance towards him and Patroclus felt this great need to _touch_ him. 

Something of this must have been readable on his face: as soon as Achilles finally allowed himself to look up, a wry smile began to tug at his lips. 

“Is there something wrong?” He asked calmly, flexing his shoulders backwards and crouching slightly to accentuate the cords in those thick legs. Patroclus traced the lines of musculature upwards to their logical end and felt his face flush with an unbearable heat.

“No. What could be wrong?” Patroclus asked with remarkable restraint. 

“Well, it’s just that...my eyes are up here.” 

Patroclus realized his mistake too late, and looked up to find Achilles smiling at him fondly. 

“...just sizing up the competition,” Patroclus retorted, immediately regretting his choice of words. 

“And did you find the size to your liking?” Achilles asked, some of his humour falling away to be replaced by something much more intense. 

Patroclus swallowed hard and did the only thing he could think of doing: he launched into an aggressive bull rush. 

Achilles grunted as Patroclus made contact with his midriff, and grasped at his shoulders with his thick arms to try to push him back. Patroclus leaned all his strength forward in an attempt to topple his opponent, but was dismayed to find him unmoveable. 

“Hah,” Achilles panted a small chuckle. “You see? I--wha--!”

Patroclus swept the legs from under him and Achilles fell backwards, rolling hard on his shoulder to prevent his back from touching the ground. Their tumble ended with Patroclus flat on his back. Achilles had wrapped his arms around his torso in a tight hold, and was leaning in so close that Patroclus could feel the warmth of his breath in his own. Achilles’ face was flushed, his hair clinging to the sweat that was already giving his face, no, his entire body, a godly shine. The look in his eyes was not that of a combatant though: he gazed at Patroclus with a soft smile brimming with affection and he looked as though he were about to—

“Oh,” Patroclus breathed. In Achilles’ eyes, there was nothing but open adoration. “You love me.” 

Achilles gasped at the words, only now realizing what he was doing. His composure collapsed, and the agony that had etched his features on their first meeting returned. He scrambled to stand, and grabbed at his clothes. 

“Did—”

“Don’t,” Achilles interrupted, turning away deliberately. 

“Please don’t be angry,” Patroclus tried again, more softly. 

His tone made Achilles pause. “I am not angry at you,” he replied quietly. “I am angry at the Fates. At the gods.”

“...so you will come back?” Patroclus asked.

Achilles turned and knelt at his side. “I will always come back to you,” he said in full earnest, taking one of Patroclus’ hands into both his own. “But you are right, as you always were. Fear is for the weak.” 

There was something new in Achilles’ eyes, and it brought a chill to Patroclus’ very soul. “What is it that you mean to do?” 

Achilles smiled humourlessly. “I mean to finally risk it all.” 

He raised Patroclus’ hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly before standing to go. He did not turn back. 

\---

When Patroclus’ next visitor arrived, it wasn’t through the door. There was a deep toll of a bell, something that resonated through every fibre of the shade’s ethereal body, something that demanded respect. He could see a cloud of smoke whirl at a distance, and a man--no, not a man--an imposing god in a red cloak appear. The god--Lord Hades, Patroclus’ mind somehow supplied--moved to loom over where he sat. 

Patroclus blinked up at him. “Hello, my lord. Is there...something I can do for you?”

“No,” The god answered with something that sounded like exasperation. “I am simply here to see for myself this agent of chaos.” 

“Agent of chaos?” Patroclus repeated.

“Yes,” Hades grumbled. “The one shade who could turn my best, most loyal soldier against me. Whose mere existence could cause him to rush at my desk, wild-eyed and deranged, spear drawn. To roar that he would tear down my entire House if you were not returned to who you were.” 

Oh. Oh no. 

Patroclus felt his heart rise to his throat. 

“I suppose it was to be expected,” Hades muttered. “He’s done something like it before.” 

“What?”

“After you died,” Hades sighed. “He took to the battlefield with this same rage. Killed hundreds. Hacked them down to the bone. I’d never seen anything like it.” 

“I...oh.” Patroclus blinked back tears that he did not understand. His chest felt tight with dread. “Where is he now?”

“In Tartarus,” Hades replied with a frown. “I had to lock him up. He was a danger to the House and to himself. Not even my wayward son could talk him down.” 

“Ah.” Patroclus’ mind scrambled for a solution. But surely this was treason, what Achilles had just done. And Patroclus had little to offer as leverage aside from his own soul, which, to the god of the Underworld, must not be worth very much. 

Hades eventually broke their silence.

“I will never understand mortals,” he muttered.

Patroclus took a long breath to steady himself and his voice. 

“Are we so difficult to understand?” he asked. “I hope I am not being presumptuous if I ask whether there is someone dear to your heart?” 

“Hmph.” 

It was answer enough.

“And if you were torn from them—”

“I _was_ torn from her,” Hades argued. “And I made the best of it that I could. But never once did I neglect my duties.” 

“Truly torn? An act that was neither of your will nor hers?” Patroclus asked softly. “I find that difficult to believe of the gods.”

Hades remained silent. 

“What if she had not wanted to go?” Patroclus continued. “Were taken from you against her will? And you from hers? What do you do, to get her back?”

“...I would tear the heavens apart,” Hades said quietly, menace rumbling soft in it, although not directed at Patroclus. “Overturn the seas. Scorch the earth. I would cut down any who dared stand in my way.” 

Patroclus hummed. “Not so different, then.” 

“No,” Hades replied with a snort. “Not so different.” He motioned for Patroclus to stand. “Come. Let me have a better look at you.” 

Patroclus stood and tilted his head upwards to look at the god. Hades grasped him by the chin with one of his huge hands and tugged at it left and right, peering into his eyes thoughtfully. “It wasn’t your first drink from the Lethe.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Patroclus confessed. 

“I can see it,” Hades said thoughtfully. “You’ve done so before. Small sips. To dull some of the pain.” His face clouded over. “You just finally took one sip too many.” 

“Ah.” Patroclus nodded. “I did not live a very happy life, did I?”

“As far as I can tell, you were happy in life. With Achilles,’ Hades answered. “It was the manner in which you died, and the conditions of your afterlife that caused you pain.” 

“As they have caused him pain?” Patroclus asked. 

“...yes,” Hades answered, his expression inscrutable. He continued to observe Patroclus for a moment more.

“Do you want them back, shade?” Hades dropped his hand. “Your memories?” 

“I can’t say I miss them,” Patroclus replied wryly. “But…” He thought back to his first meeting with Zagreus, and of the anguish that haunted Achilles’ eyes every visit. “I’ve hurt others, haven’t I?”

“No shade should bear the blame for drinking of the Lethe,” The god waved off his guilt. “It is your choice and your right.” 

“But I didn’t, right away,” Patroclus said. “Nor did I do so in a way that would clear my memory completely.”

“No.” 

“So there was something worth remembering.” 

The god huffed again. “There always is.” 

Patroclus hesitated. “If I were to remember...would he be freed from Tartarus? Free to see me?”

Hades let out a booming laugh. “Are you negotiating with me, shade?” 

“I wouldn’t dare to be so brazen. Or maybe I would. I can’t remember,” Patroclus shrugged. 

“What if I said no?” The god countered. “What if I were to return the memories to you, and as punishment, forbid him from seeing you, as I had before?”

“You forbid him from seeing me?” Patroclus frowned. 

Hades actually looked a bit abashed. “It was a pact that we had signed. He had agreed to the terms.” It sounded like an excuse. 

“I see,” Patroclus hummed. “If you would tell him, then yes. I would.” 

“Why?” Hades tilted his head and looked genuinely curious.

“Because he loves me. And he is suffering,” Patroclus said. “If knowing that I remembered him would ease that, then, I am ready to share in the pain of our separation.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” The god snorted. 

“In my position, would you not do the same?” Patroclus asked again.

The god fell silent again.

“It will hurt,” he finally said. “You have been trying to dull the pain for over a century, and it will come back all at once. There are no part-measures.” 

Patroclus’ lips twisted into a wry smile. “It is nothing I’ve not carried before.” 

“Hmph.” The god stood taller, observing Patroclus from this greater distance. “It’s not something you should bear alone. Perhaps it never should have been.” 

Patroclus simply shrugged. “And yet.” 

“And yet,” The god echoed. “Alright. I will return. Prepare yourself.” 

“How exactly am I to do that, my lord?” Patroclus asked, amused.

“In case you’ve forgotten, mortals usually _worship_ gods without question,” The god huffed with frustration, but no anger. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke, not expecting an answer. 

\--- 

When the bell tolled again, Patroclus saw the same burst of grey smoke, but the god was not alone. He had a large hand placed on the back of Achilles’ neck, and was pushing him forcibly forward. 

Achilles’ eyes widened as they met Patroclus’. 

“What is the meaning of this?” He whispered, trying to turn to look back to glare at Hades. “What are you here to do?”

His voice was shaking and Patroclus felt a twinge in his heart. Something in him wanted to gather Achilles into his arms, to soothe him, but it was nothing that Patroclus could clearly remember doing before. 

“The shade has made his choice,” Hades replied, giving Achilles a rough push forward before stepping towards Patroclus himself. “He has had peace for the first time since his arrival, and because of you, he will lose it.” 

“What?!” Achilles fell forward on his knees, and looked up, alarmed. “What will you do? He’s done nothing wrong!” 

“Silence!” Hades boomed. Achilles did not even flinch. 

“Punish me instead!” Achilles tried again, his voice more desperate. “Devise for me one of your eternal torments. Leave him alone!” 

“First you demand of me that I return his memories, now you demand that I not?” The god rolled his eyes. 

“Wait, what--”

The god reached forward and grasped the back of Patroclus’ head. The was a burning heat, not from the hand, but from some burst embedded deep within Patroclus’ very soul, and then—

_A boy with golden curls perfectly framing his rosy face, with kind eyes, reaching to help him stand after chasing off a pack of bullies._

_A longer and leaner Achilles, laughing at his wry words, lifting a hand to Patroclus’ shoulder to steady himself from his mirth. Patroclus deciding in that exact moment that his goal in life was to elicit that sound as much as he possibly could._

_An older Achilles still, screaming in panic as forces came down on Patroclus’ troop in their first battle. When the dust cleared, the enemy was all dead, and only Achilles was standing: his spear still pointed offensively, dripping with blood; his eyes wide with a madness to them; his teeth bared in a sight that was equally magnificent and horrific. Patroclus had placed a hand on Achilles’ arm then too, and his beloved had instantly calmed under his touch._

_Their first kiss shortly thereafter, when they had all but dragged each other to Achilles’ tent and Achilles had claimed Patroclus’ lips without a word. None had been necessary._

_Achilles years later, insisting that they must go fight this war that was not theirs to fight. Patroclus agreeing, as he always did, not because he wanted to, but because he feared that each parting would be their last._

_Achilles not long after, refusing to step onto the field after having brought their men so far. Patroclus stealing his armor, taking to the field in his place._

_His spear breaking._

_His heart breaking, knowing that of all the times he feared that Achilles would leave him behind, it was Patroclus who would finally be to blame._

_Darkness._

_A green field, peaceful, empty (with some effort). Another day without Achilles. Another day. Another day. His heart breaking over and over at each day he awoke without Achilles by his side._

_A river that promised peace. Perhaps, just a little._

_A brash young god, insisting that this could be fixed._

_And yet, another day. Another day._

_Perhaps one sip more. Perhaps just one._

“Pat!” 

Patroclus gasped and opened his eyes to find himself lying in Achilles’ lap. Achilles was looking at him terrified, and was running both hands over the sides of his face in an attempt to bring him back to consciousness. His shoulders were shaking from his failed attempts to restrain his tears. 

But he was here. His Achilles was _here_. And Patroclus _remembered_.

Patroclus stretched a hand out in wonder to touch that golden hair. He brushed aside the strands that were damp from his lover’s tears, touched the side of his face to feel it solid against his fingertips. 

“Achilles,” Patroclus breathed. “Beloved.” 

Saying the name lifted a great weight from his chest. Achilles’ breath hitched at hearing it and the anxiety carved deep in his expression melted away. Patroclus drew Achilles towards him, breathed him in before sinking into a long and lasting kiss, fueled by several lifetimes’ worth of longing and grief. For the first time in so long, it was unimpeded joy, release, a pure and complete wholeness. It was home.

They finally parted, breathless despite not needing to breathe, holding each other close as though still in disbelief that this could actually be. 

“Hmph.” 

They turned to find Hades looking away, slightly embarrassed, his arms crossed. 

They scrambled to stand. 

“My lord,” Achilles began, his face still flushed. “I—”

“That’s enough,” Hades grunted. “I require no excuses. Patroclus has already explained.”

Achilles turned to Patroclus, who simply shrugged. 

“The terms of our pact, as amended by...Zagreus,” Hades forced himself to say his son’s name. “They will stand. You will continue your work in the House, but will be allowed to visit Elysium when you are off-duty.”

“But my indiscipline—” 

“What indiscipline?” Hades barked. “I’ve already forgotten. Make sure to return quickly when you are done here.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Achilles swept his cloak aside to bow low. “Thank you.” 

“Yes, thank you,” Patroclus echoed, bowing as well. He met Hades gaze for a moment and the god nodded. 

“Your partner is smarter than you,” Hades added to Achilles. “You would do well to learn from him.” He disappeared in another cloud of smoke. 

As soon as he left, Achilles turned to gather Patroclus into his arms again, his whole body still shaking from the shock of it. Patroclus pulled at him gently and they both tumbled to the ground. 

“What...what did you say to Lord Hades?” Achilles asked finally in wonderment. “How did you convince him to let me go?”

“I’m not sure that I did,” Patroclus replied, settling his head happily against Achilles’ neck. 

“Modest as always,” Achilles murmured softly into his hair. 

They lay together in perfect contentment for some time before Patroclus decided to speak again.

He tilted his head upward to look at Achilles. “Beloved...I’m sorry. That my heart could not bear it.” 

Achilles frowned down at him. “You bore the pain for as long as you could, my love. It’s my fault that I did not act earlier. That you had to…” his voice hitched. 

“None of that,” Patroclus said sternly. He stretched upwards to kiss Achilles softly again. Achilles hummed, pressing more insistently down into him and tightening his grasp around his waist. 

“Alright,” Achilles agreed after they pulled away from each other again, equally as breathless as the first time. 

“Instead,” Patroclus began with a wicked smile. “Perhaps you’d like to try that wrestling again?” 

Achilles burst into laughter, already pulling at Patroclus’ clothing. “I’ll win, you know.”

“I think that perhaps in this instance, we both have,” Patroclus hummed, unclasping Achilles’ chiton with practiced hands. 

“Finally,” Achilles breathed against his lips before sinking again into his lover’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> There was totally a missing scene here where Zagreus pretty much forces Achilles to try to woo Patroclus again (hence the flowers) XD
> 
> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fireflyquill)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Leave by the River](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576421) by [sksNinja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksNinja/pseuds/sksNinja)




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